


Your True Self

by Hold_en



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Horror, Co-workers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, Infidelity, Magic, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25292215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hold_en/pseuds/Hold_en
Summary: All it took was a break up, an evil figure from the past and near death to bring this unlikely pair together.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape, Ron Weasley/Other(s)
Comments: 133
Kudos: 316





	1. A Red-faced Weasel

"I don't understand."

It was strange for her to say these words aloud because there were precious few things in this world that Hermione Granger didn't understand. If it could be taught she could learn it.

But Ron sitting across from her, his hand over hers in a gesture of familial comfort had just said something so unexpected she was truly taken aback.

"I said that I think we should end things," Ron repeated, his tone quiet. He needn't have bothered - she'd cast a Muffliato Charm the minute she'd seen his face drop moments earlier. She had assumed another engagement proposal was about to start and had been bracing herself. So when Ron anxious spoke of ending things, Hermione was thrown.

"Right. I heard what you said I... I just don't understand...."

She was closing her eyes tightly, silently insisting that her body listen to her and Not. Cry. Do. Not. Cry.

They were seated in the middle of a muggle cafe. Hermione had been surprised that this was Ron's choice - he was more partial to Wizarding locations. She had thought it was a thoughtful gesture, taking her to lunch during the workweek. He never did that.

She'd put lipstick on.

She felt idiotic.

Now she realized he had planned this lunch in a Muggle locale to avoid gossip amongst the magical world. The paper did so dearly love to report of their personal lives. It was also likely in the hopes that she wouldn't make a scene. The thought pained her.

“Why now?"

Hermione tried to use her most officious voice. The one she used when sourcing research grants or visiting her grandparents.

"It's been over ten years, Hermione."

"I'm aware."

"And you still don't want to get married or have kids."

"Not yet."

His eyes were murky and troubled looking.

"Not yet. Always not yet. Maybe soon. Someday. I'm not ready yet. We will, I promise," Ron raised a finger for each excuse Hermione had given him in the past decade.

Hermione felt her teeth clenching. "I can't help it if I am involved with my work. My latest project-"

"That's just the thing," Ron said, looking hopeless. "You always have something else to do. More pressing."

"My work is important to me," Hermione said feeling wounded. "You know that, Ron."

"I do and I've tried to be patient. But all you ever do is talk about the research projects and Snape!" Ron said in exasperation. "I feel like a third wheel in my own relationship!"

"He's my coworker, Ron. My only coworker." Hermione felt her hands trembling in agitation. "This project is important you know that! It could change the magical world!"

"I know! I know! You never stop talking about it!"

Hermione felt her cheeks go pink. "Well it makes for a nice change. All _you_ want to talk about is Quidditch and going round the pub!"

She expected this to wound him or at least make Ron consider what he was about to say next. But if anything it emboldened him.

"Exactly my point!" Ron countered. "We barely have anything in common anymore."

"We're in a lull." Hermione hated how desperate she sounded. "After this project i-"

"There'll always be another something." Ron interrupted, looking dour. "Another project, another delay."

A _delay._

That was what her life's work amounted to, to Ron. A delay.

The thought stung. But the thought of a future without Ron was stressful and unknowable. Hermione liked order and for lack of surprises. She liked having a plan for her life and this was a deviation she was having trouble understanding.

"Fine," Hermione said, her tone flippant. "Let's get married then. Right now. No more waiting."

Ron leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a frown. "You don't want to marry me."

"I don't particularly at this moment" Hermione agreed admitted. "But I love you and if that's what you need to feel secure in our-'

"Hermione, there's someone else."

The rest of what she's been about to say died on her slightly parted lips as the words registered.

_Someone else._

It was as if she had been punched in the gut. Uncomfortable tightness spread through her body.

"Who?"

She didn't know why that was the first question that came to mind. She should have been speaking vitriol, she should have throttled him from across the table. but instead all she could feel with this weakness, this numbness that seem to have dampened her previous spark of fury.

"It doesn't mat-"

"Who, Ron?" Her tone broached no argument. The redhead across from her squirmed in his chair, looking at the leftover sandwich crumbs on his plate.

"A girl from the joke shop."

"Your brother's shop?"

He gave a quick nod and Hermione recalled the late nights she was at the lab and Ron was at the joke shop, claiming he was helping George to do inventory.

"How long?"

"Only a month," Ron said, as if the length of time was so short it was inconsequential. Is if there was an appropriate amount of time to step out on ones girlfriend before it became taboo.

"A month," Hermione repeated, thinking back on the past month. Laughing together in bed. Dancing and drinking at Harry's birthday party only two weeks ago. 

But that entire time, his heart belonged to someone else.

She felt humiliated. Yes, she spent lots of time at work but there were also so many good moments between them.

He had been there bright-eyed and smiling when she first received notice that she gotten the ministry research job. He'd insisted on a giant celebration with all their friends.

And she was there, cheering him on at every Quidditch game. She even tried knitting him a Quidditch sweater like his mum did at Christmas. When the team went out to the pub after games she always bought the first round.

When Hermione's father had his cancer scare, Ron had been there holding her hand and stroking her hair as she cried, and when he recovered it was Ron who dropped by once a month with treats from his mum and a stout for her father.

It was so hard to fathom, to connect the dots that the same Ron who had been so kind over the years, the same boy who had helped Harry to defeat Voldemort, was also the man sitting before her and admitting to infidelity.

"Have you've slept together?"

_Please say no._

But Ron's face bloomed onto an ugly shade of crimson and Hermione's heart sank.

"Right."

She stood on wobbling legs, unable to look at him any longer.

"What did you want me to do?" Ron asked with his palms up in supplication. "Sit by til I was old and grey, waiting for you to want me?"

Hermione gathered her purse onto her shoulder.

"I did want you, Ron."

"No you didn't," Ron said and Hermione was shocked to see tears in his eyes. She had rarely seen Ron cry.

"I think you did at the beginning. Then I think as we went on you _wanted_ to want me. Ginny and Harry. You and me. It was perfect. Except for the little fact that you weren't in love with me anymore."

The tears were falling down his freckled face and Hermione felt an unexpected lump in her throat at the sight. She couldn’t let him see she was affected. She moved to the exit of the cafe with Ron suddenly at her heels

"I don't know exactly when it changed but it did," he continued with a cracking voice. "And I kept waiting for it to be like it was before. When we were at school and-"

_Back when I chased you until you saw me as worthy._

_Back when you ran from us during our hunt._

_Back when you dated Lavender before you’d deign to date me._

Fury, electric and furious coursed through her. Emotions ran rampant through her mind and pulse and she found herself wanting to throttle him.

Hermione whirled around, the ends of her hair crackling.

"Enough, Ron."

"But-'

Hermione could tell that onlookers were being drawn to the scene they were creating. Some of them whispered while pointedly looking at the couple. Hermione dropped her voice to a low hiss.

"You are impossibly weak, Ron Weasley. I knew it when you went running away during the Horcrux hunt. I've always known it. Perhaps that's why I don't want to marry you. I don't want to be stuck taking the last name of someone I can't respect."

Ron's normal response to such insults to his character was to scream back. To get that red, mottled look as he called her name's. But now he was silent. His head was slumped forward. He wasn't even looking at her as she railed on.

"The only thing you've ever done that I could possibly respect is to end things between us. And you couldn't even do that in a dignified way."

She knew it was cruel. She knew her words were cutting and unkind. She had said them to wound him.

She hated him.

She hated the way he laughed in that wheezy, annoying way all the Weasley's did when they were really amused.

She hated that his kisses felt wet and rubbery and his act of foreplay was twisting her nipples apathetically before plunging onto her.

Most of all she hated that he'd done this humiliating breakup during a weekday lunch hour, on a day she was needed back at the lab.

"I never want to see you again, Ron Weasley."

He went to speak when all of a sudden the waitress from the cafe was running after them. Her eyes were trained on Ron.

"Sir, the bill!"

Hermione dashed down the nearest alley when Ron turned his head. When she was alone she disappeared.

The only thing she could console herself with was that Ron was stuck with the bill and had no muggle money to speak of.


	2. A Git-sized Coworker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapters are forthcoming !

"Your lunch was over ten minutes ago."

Snape snapped this at her as she entered the lab on the fifth floor of the ministry only moments after leaving Ron. Her hair was mad and her eyes red-rimmed but that didn't seem to phase her most annoying coworker. 

"I'm aware," Hermione retorted before slumping in the chair behind her desk.

It was a modest little office meant entirely for brewing and research. It was not a glamorous space whatsoever, but it was satisfying to both parties. It was at the end of the hall, a fair distance from the Magical Cooperation workers that took up a majority of the space.

Hermione’s desk faced Snape’s so she had a perfectly clear view of his ugly sneer directed at her. He was leaning over the desk at the far side of the office, books and parchment askew. This told her he was anxious – his desk was normally perfectly clean.

Snape’s hair was shorter than in her youth, falling just above his sharp jaw. He dressed in a black tunic when doing research and dark grey spelled robes when working with the potions. Today was the tunic and he reminded her very much of being back at Hogwarts, terrified of him.

She and Snape weren't friends by any stretch of the imagination. But they did work well together and that was why they had been lumped together the past two years.

They both excelled in their separate research and Kingsley being so delighted with their progress had thrust them together to work on their dual project.

They hadn't seen each other since the celebration feast on the eve of the first anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. She, Ron, Harry and Snape had been awarded order of Merlin first class medals. Snape had left before the actual ceremony.

When she found he was to be her new research partner she had been beside herself.

When Snape first viewed Hermione with her box of items coming into the lab he occupied she felt his wintry gaze and had returned it in equal measure. In truth she had been disappointed to see him. She had been convinced that he would run all over her while they worked together.

For the first week they worked in absolute silence.

Then he had said something innocuous about a past project she’d been a part of during her tenure in Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Something about how it was well thought out and written with a point of view that had something to say.

She hadn’t been expecting that.

Weeks later she commented that his ideas for their joint project would benefit greatly from his extensive knowledge of potions. He hadn’t said much in return, but she thought she had seen a shadow of a smile on his thin lips.

Through the months and then eventually years, there had been a grudging respect that bloomed between them. If there was silence it was a comfortable one. They worked as a team not enemies and they did so with great advancement.

Hermione knew that if Snape's desk was messy (like it was now) that he was stressed and in a foul mood, best to be avoided until he'd snuck out for a quick dart (even though when asked, he denied ever smoking). 

Snape knew that when Hermione entered the lab with her morning ritual of darjeeling and whatever biscuit she fancied, that she needed a full ten minutes to look over the day's schedule before he began peppering her with questions.

That didn't mean Snape and his miserable attitude didn't bother Hermione. Often she regaled Ron with stories of Snape's actions or comments getting them in hot water with Department of International Magical Cooperation. Too often she had come off the lift to see Severus in a verbal sparring match with McGinley or Schyler about something in the paper. 

The project Snape and Hermione were working on together had to do with helping Squibs finding the way to access their dormant magical powers. They theorized that along with a mental block there was a physical one as well. Trying to convince Snape that they should try to utilize Muggle methods as well as magical had been a month-long argument.

Eventually he had come to agree that some sort of Muggle therapy was needed to help advance their findings. A series of meetings for the squib's to talk about feelings and see where the mental block may lie.

Finding a Muggle therapist that wanted to participate hadn't been that hard. Dennis Creevey's aunt Gwen was Muggle born and would so anything to help her nephew succeed within the ministry. He had his eye on a particularly coveted position in the Catastrophe’s division.

Gwen and Hermione worked closely for several months crafting a working mental exercises and questions to pose. Snape himself had given a grudging look over only to nod his head in between making potion bases.

Filch had been first in line to be their test subject. He had nearly been trembling with excitement at the thought he may be able to use magic. He'd gone to the therapy sessions with glee happily going through the questions and exercises she and Hermione had prepared.

He was coming this afternoon for the first trial run of the potion they'd created. It was no doubt what had Snape in a strop. He hated last minute deviations almost as much as Hermione did.

"Well? What kept you on _today_ of all days?" Snape continued, giving her a dark look. "What was so pressing that-"

He stopped as Hermione threw her purse to the ground.

"I was busy being dumped if you must know," Hermione interrupted, surprised at the volume of her voice as she said it. Her cheeks were stained red with humiliation and frustration in equal measure. She hated having to tell Snape, but she also couldn't stand him baiting her for the rest of the afternoon. 

Snape looked stunned. If she hadn't been so miserable Hermione might have enjoyed seeing the man look uncharacteristically taken aback. He stared at her a moment longer. His voice came out in a soft whisper.

"Weasley-"

"Yes."

Snape nodded as if that made sense. His mouth opened, closed and then opened again as if ramping up. Hermione busied herself with gathering the notes and phials she would need for their meeting with Filch. She was about to made a note of the time when Snape finally spoke again, still standing behind his desk and watching her as if she were a feral Vipertooth. 

"It was inevitable."

Hermione felt her entire body fizzle with irritation at the flippant way he said it; as if everyone knew it but her. She slowly straightened, fixing him with a look she could only hope was chilling. 

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It's quite clear you're a poor match," Snape continued on, oblivious to Hermione’s seething as he wrote something on his own parchment. "The boy wants a trophy witch on his arm. A young, vapid pretty thing to hang on his every word. Not someone like you."

He tossed out these cruelties so easily that Hermione felt her stomach drop.

_Pretty._

_Young._

Things that even Snape didn't associate with her.

Not that she cared if Severus Snape found her attractive. Not at all.

No, it was more that Snape was so far from an Adonis himself and yet he could easily cast aspersions on her looks. She felt emotionally put out and now impossibly offended by the great dark stormcloud across the room.

"I don't recall asking your opinion," Hermione said stiffly.

Snape had the good grace to look embarrassed but it only lasted a moment.

"Can you honestly say you saw a future with him?" 

"That's none of your business!" Hermione exclaimed and then felt it necessary to add: "I was with him over a decade!"

"And no closer to commitment than when you were both eighteen." Snape said flatly. "You were with him for convenience. You were obviously unhappy and I-"

Without warning Hermione had removed the stirring rod from the potion and hurled it to the ground, watching in dull satisfaction as it splintered and shattered into several pieces on the floor.

Before Snape could say anything more, Hermione had _accio_ -ed her purse and stormed angrily out of the office.


	3. A Ferret's Invitation

The next day Hermione stayed home, sending an owl with a brief note to the Ministry explaining she was unwell. Her eyes were red and puffy and she had no desire to verbally spar with her research partner further. Snape had wounded her pride handily the other day and she didn't need a repeat performance of such. 

When Hermione had returned home in a huff yesterday afternoon, she had been greeted by a half empty flat. Her shelves were bare of Chudley Cannon knick knacks. The Christmas sweaters Ron hung in the wardrobe were all gone. He had already taken everything that belonged to him, leaving the space looking depressing and untidy.

Hermione had cried until morning.

Crookshanks now wound his way around Hermione’s ankles as she sat in her overstuffed chair, drinking tea and staring out the window at the early morning sky. But even a good Darjeeling wasn't enough to cheer her. Thoughts of Ron and his other woman were too humiliating.

Hermione didn't know what this other woman looked like but she could only assume she was stunning. Ron had always been weak in the knees for a pretty, if not vapid, witch.

And what would become of her friendship with Harry and Ginny? Ginny was blood related and Harry would do anything for his wife. By severing ties with Ron she had effectively cut her best friends out of her life as well.

A tired looking owl arrived outside her large bay windows and Hermione held in a scowl. It was Ron’s owl Bingo, a lazy creature that took after its master in eating all it could. Hermione threw it a cracker and took the scroll from around its ankle.

Bingo flew off with a rueful look behind him as Hermione closed the window and ripped open the envelope. She didn’t know what awaited her and more importantly she didn’t know why she felt it necessary to read.

_Hermione,_

_I should have known that would go poorly. I'm so sorry. What I did was unforgivable. I'll give you all the space you need and if you're ever ready to forgive me, I hope we can still be friends._

_Love,_

_Ron_

Hermione's eyes dripped tears onto the parchment, blurring the word 'love' written in Ron's sloppy cursive. He shouldn’t be able to use that word. The word had lost all meaning. You don’t fuck around on someone you love.

Hermione hated Ron in this moment but she would also miss him terribly. He and Harry had been her first _real_ friends. They had saved her from a troll when they hated her. They had fought Lord Voldemort together. And now the reassurance of him at her side was gone. The friendship, the loyalty, the comfort was gone.

But where in all that was the love? The romance? The Passion?

She had to think long and hard about that. When was the last time she had told Ron she loved him, aside from yesterday in their fight? When had she done something romantic for him? Yes, they did kind things for one another – but as she would do for Harry and Ginny. 

Sex had never been her favorite part of their relationship and as she grew busier it seemed just easier to say she was tired. When had they last had sex? Hermione thought a moment before a low gasp escaped her. Three months? No, that couldn’t be right.

But it _was._

It in no way gave him reason to sleep around. If he’d felt so lonely he should have dumped her long before. But three months without sex (not that it been much more frequent before) seemed an excessively long time for someone she claimed to fancy. And in the cold morning she had to accept that the thought of having sex with Ron hadn’t appealed to her in years.

Had Snape been right? Was that why she had been so furious at him? Did she really not see herself with Ron? Were they that poor a match? She gave a small whimper, trying to pinpoint the moment when they had lost their “spark”. A past moment entered into her mind, but a pecking at the window stopped her train of thought.

Another familiar owl dropped off a parcel along with a note. Inside was a dozen baked cupcakes, all designed with small chocolate books on top. Ginny had inherited her mother’s love of baking along with her brother’s love of Quidditch. Hermione shoved a cupcake into her mouth, savoring the sweet chocolate before opening the parchment that came with it.

_Hermione,_

_Heard about what happened with Ron. I'm so sorry. We had no idea. Please write me back and we can talk. Harry is rubbish with this kind of thing, but I'm always here if you need me. You'll always be a part of our family and Harry’s dearest friend._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

After that note Hermione crawled back into bed and lay there feeling sorry for herself. Crookshanks was curled up in the other room, purring before the fire. For some reason this made Hermione feel even more alone. 

Her thoughts drifted to Ron and their fight. How she’d called him weak. The moment that had been bothering her earlier clouded her mind.

_It was the eve of the awards ceremony and she, Ron and Harry were backstage awaiting their Order of Merlin, First Class. She was to go first, then Ron and then Harry. She was anxiously awaiting her name to be called._

_Kingsley was out on the podium in front of hundreds of adoring witches and wizards giving his speech. Ron, seeming to sense her anxiety gave her shoulder a small squeeze. As she turned to give him a smile, Hermione saw movement out of the corner of her eye._

_She watched as a very irritated Snape was being guided in their direction by one of the organizers of the event. He’d dressed well for the occasion and Hermione was surprised to see how healthy he looked despite only the year before nearly dying at the fangs of Nagini._

_The organizer pointed to the empty space in front of Hermione, indicating for Snape to take his place._

_“You’ll stand here,” the witch explained as Snape moved to stand in front of Hermione. Snape didn’t bother to even acknowledge she or the boys and Hermione couldn’t say she was surprised. He was infamous reclusive these days._

_Kingsley was still prattling on, enthusiastically building the crowd’s anticipation._

_“The individuals who will be honored tonight are some of the bravest, most brilliant-“_

_Hermione felt the anxiety building in her chest again. There would be so many people staring at her. She needed to think of something else but found her normally prodigious mind completely strapped for an appropriate distraction._

_Desperate to take some of the anxiety away she focused all her attention on the tall figure in front of her. His black hair blended into his black dress robes, giving him the appearance of a particularly lithe inkblot._

_“The first man I will be awarding tonight is Severus Snape,” Kingsley told the crowd of murmering figures. “A wizard of bravery, of great talent and an even greater desire to protect. Still waters run deep with this particularly gifted and brave wizard-“_

_Hermione saw as Snape visibly flinched from the enthusiastic appraisal and let out a small scoffing noise. Hermione could tell Snape was beyond uncomfortable and before she could offer a word of kindness about how she too was uncomfortable; her former professor had whirled around and moved past her, away from the stage_

Now lying in bed, Hermione remembered the feeling of Snape brushing past her, his arm barely touching her own. It would be impossible to say she felt the heat through both their dress robes and yet… she could _swear_ she had. It had been power she felt radiating from him, from the realization that he was not only smart, but he was brave and powerful and had such a deep capacity for love.

_The Minister was still speaking adulation about Snape when he disappeared around the corner of the stage and out the nearest exit. Hermione had listened with rapt focus as the minister listed Snape’s many instances of bravery through the years. She realized that during her time Snape had been a figure – not a real person. Now, armed with this knowledge of his bravery and the looks of adoration from the crowd, Hermione was struck._

_**I want a wizard like that.** _

A wizard of strength of mind as well as body. Someone brave and focused and brilliant.

Ron was sweet but simple. He was brave because he had to be pushed. He had no tolerance for sitting down and learning something. But she often forgot this when he held her hand or gave her that sweet, open look he was famous for.

“The perfect pair” is what they were hailed as in all the wizarding papers. And Hermione had gone along with it. It was perfect after all! Her best friend Harry engaged to Ginny and she dating Ron! Their future was all planned out. Two children, a girl and a boy. Rose and Hugo (Ron’s suggestion of starting each child’s name with the first letter of their own). 

And when Harry and Ginny had wed Ron had seemed to certain they would be next. He proposed a dozen times in different ways but Hermione always had an excuse. This was also true. The truth was there in front of her – she didn’t desire Ron. She hadn’t for a long time. And eventually he had grown tired of waiting for her. 

Could she blame him?

With this troubling thought, Hermione heaved a deep sigh, pulled her duvet over her head and fell into a restless sleep with dreams of a man’s deep voice, her body naked and writhing on top of a faceless man with his seductive command of “ _come for me, Hermione_ ” echoing over and over.

She awoke several hours later, sticky and overheated, to the tapping sound of a very aggressive delivery owl at her window. In its claws was her daily delivery of the prophet newspaper. She threw herself out of bed, welcome for the distraction and threw open the window. Hermione tossed the owl a treat and it took off before Hermione opened the paper. Perhaps she could take her mind off of-

_WHAT THE GREAT BLOODY FUCK?!_

There, staring back on the front page of the daily prophet was a photo of she and Ron from a past ministry event. They were standing side by side dressed in their best robes and frowning out at the viewer. There was an animated slash between them, severing the photo and them.

_BELOVED COUPLE SPLITS AMIDST RUMOURS OF INFIDELITY._

Below that was a photo of a young woman no older than twenty five. She had sleek black hair to her narrow waist and beautiful almond eyes. She was wearing a Weasley wizard wheezes uniform and holding her hand up to block whoever had been taking her photo.

_SUSPECTED SEDUCTRESS, EUNJOO KIM, 24._

Hermione stared at the photo of Eunjoo, unable to take her eyes off of the young woman. She was stunning with perfect skin and hair that looked like it was spun of blue black silk. She moved with the graceful confidence only the young and lithe possess.

Hermione caught her reflection in the window she was facing. Her skin showed all of its thirty plus years. Her eyes looked dull and her hair a matted mess. She wasn't young and pretty like Eunjoo Kim. She looked haggard and worn and she could see the imprints of her pillow creasing her cheek.

Was it any wonder Ron had looked elsewhere?

Hermione moaned before balling up the paper and tossing it in the fire. She had no desire to read more. Whatever more misery awaited her within the pages of the Prophet, she had no intention of finding out.

That afternoon, after the horrible article, more owls arrived from friends and acquaintances offering their condolences and words of advice. Some held potions or hexes to use on the ginger adulterer. Some said she was a career witch who should have known that he was a poor match. She stopped answering them until she recognized a ministry owl holding a scroll. She took it and read it with a wince.

_The potion didn't work. Reconsider the addition of mandrake cubes and mink hair. Bring fresh bundle of lavender when next at office._

_SS_

Hermione was surprised how restrained the message was. She had been expecting the full force of his vitriol. She knew what he wanted to write: _you leaving in a strop was most unprofessional._

She was about to go back to bed when another tap at the window sounded. An angry looking snowy owl stared in at her through the glass. Normally she would have ignored it along with the others, but the haughty look it gave her intrigued her.

She padded back over to the window, opening it and cooing.

"Who do you belong to?"

She gave the unfamiliar looking bird a once over before untying the scroll from its leg. Before she could offer the creature any food it had begun taking off; almost as if it were embarrassed to be seen in her neighborhood.

She opened the scroll and was greeted by an unfamiliar set of cursive.

_Granger,_

_Read the paper this morning and saw about you and Weasely. How embarrassing. I've never been fond of you, as you well know. But I despise that ginger idiot even more. So I'm attaching a referral to a business an ex of mine runs. Very exclusive clientele. Referral only._

_Make the weasel pay._

_Malfoy_

Hermione picked up the card tucked inside of the envelope.

_"Your True Self Salon"_

1799 fíor féin street, Ireland

By appointment only

Besides being shocked by the sudden letter from a rude boy she hadn't talked to since she was seventeen, she was also remarkably offended. She wasn't some hideous hag! It was _so_ like Draco to send a letter like this under the pretense of trying to help her. A decade later and she still couldn't trust the little ferret.

She would have thrown the entire thing into the fire if not for the next sentence.

_Find the beauty of your true self._


	4. A mistake like no otter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have donated to my ko-fi account ! Every bit helps !!

It was several weeks before Hermione thought about the cream business card that she had tossed into her bureau.

In that time Hermione had sent Ron his forgotten remaining belongings from the flat (some ugly flannel sweaters and a pair of mismatched socks) and sent a lovely worded letter to Ginny that she was fine.

Then Hermione had had completely thrown herself into her work. She'd even promised to have tea with Ginny and Harry next week. She had dutifully ignored all magical newspapers and instead spent her leisure reading time diving into her notes on the project she and Severus were working on.

Since her row with the tall git, things had been more tense than usual in the lab.

By the time Hermione had returned a few days after her humiliation, Snape had icily informed her that their potion hadn't worked on Filch and had instead given him pink star shaped freckles all over his body. If she hadn’t been so emotionally exhausted, Hermione may have seen the humor in it.

Filch hadn't been pleased with his new look, but he was so excited at the thought of being magical that he enthusiastically promised to return for round two at the end of the month.

Hermione and Severus were now working on smaller inclusions of mink to combat the physical side effects Filch had run across. Snape had suggested it as a neutralizing component and all their research seemed to point to something from the Mustilidae family. They had used stoat fur in the last one and it simply wasn’t doing the job.

Hermione brought her morning darjeeling tea to the table, sipping it as she moved the stirring rod clockwise. Her tea was a calming habit and how she started each work day. So far it seemed to be working.

Hermione’s hair was pulled back from her face rather severely and Snape was scribbling onto a crowded looking piece of parchment. The two stood around the pewter cauldron. 

The potion bubbled in a soft almost melodically popping rhythm. Hermione held in a sigh as she looked at the puckering potion. She was exhausted not just from their research but also the relentless toadies at the Prophet trying to poke her for information on her breakup.

"You look tired."

It was the first thing Snape had said to her that didn't have to do with work. In usual Snape fashion it was muttered softly, as if an afterthought of an afterthought.

Hermione slowly lowered her teacup and silently counted to ten. With a mounting huff of frustration she looked up at him.

His black eyes were on the bubbling cauldron below him and he sprinkled something small and purple into it. It made a disappointing hissing noise and Snape frowned before writing something on the parchment beside him on the table. 

For a moment Hermione wasn't sure she'd heard him correctly or if he’d even spoken at all.

"Excuse me?'

Snape wrote something else on the parchment thoughtfully before speaking again, this time his eyes darting to her face.

"Ever since that nonsense in the paper you've become more and more exhausted looking" Snape continued as if he couldn't hear the dangerous acidity in her tone. "Do you require a sleeping draught?"

She couldn't believe it.

 _Another jab at her looks?!_ From _Snape?!_

"Since when do you care?" Hermione snarled. "According to you I've nothing to offer the opposite sex. So what does it matter what I look like?"

A flush that she could only assume was a byproduct of the heat from the cauldron coloured his high cheekbones. His brows inched towards his hairline.

"I never said that."

"You may as well have."

The duo dropped their eyes to the bubbling cauldron below them and continued in silence. Hermione was clenching her teeth so tightly she thought she might break a molar. She picked up the rod and began to stir slowly. 

"I don't wish for this project to be in vain," Snape finally said as he fixed her with a cool glare. "Because you're still hung up on that moronic-"

"Oh just shut up!'

That night Hermione burst into her flat and grabbed the cream-coloured card before glancing at it with trembling fingers. 

_"Your True Self Salon"_

_1799 fíor féin street, Ireland_

_By appointment only_

With a deep sigh she pressed her wand to the small raven insignia at the bottom of the card and prayed they had an opening.

***

Hermione entered into the shop that Saturday with a bit of trepidation. From the outside it looked like a rather desolate shoe repair shop. But once she stepped through the door, it was like she was transported into the most beautiful salon she’d ever seen.

The walls and floor were white marble and the ceilings impossibly high. As Hermione’s shoes clicked along the floor she stared ahead where the most beautiful witch Hermione had ever seen strode towards her, wearing the tightest pale blue robe. 

“You must be here for the twelve o’clock,” the witch said in a sweet Irish lilt, smiling broadly. She shook Hermione’s hand with a perfectly painted robin’s egg blue manicure.

“Y-yes that’s me,” Hermione managed to get out after a moment of stunned silence. “My name is-“

“I'm afraid we don't use names here," the blonde said with a small twitch of her nose in amusement. "Your privacy is our utmost concern."

Hermione nodded politely smiling at the beautiful woman staring back at her. The woman had beautiful strawberry blonde hair that fell in loose waves to her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and light and her plump mouth a perfect pout. She looked to be not much older than twenty five with a figure that most witches would _avada_ for.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Hermione said feeling uncharacteristically shy. “But… Have you used it?”

“Of course!” She gave a small giggle and turned in the spot, as if advertising herself.

_How do I know she wasn’t always this beautiful?_

“I know what you’re thinking,” the woman said with a cheeky grin. “How do you know I wasn’t born like this?”

“Well, yes,” Hermione admitted, feeling out of place.

“How old do you think I am?”

Hermione paused. “Erm… twenty four?”

“Try _thirty five_ ,” the witch replied smartly. Hermione gaped at her smooth and flawless skin that not even a glamour could replicate that well. It was impressive.

There was something in the woman’s gaze that regarded Hermione with familiarity. After a moment, Hermione realized that the girl likely knew her from the papers. Shame suddenly suffused her.

“I don’t really know if this is for me,” Hermione offered with a shrug. “I feel rather silly-“

“Is it silly to want to feel your best?” The blonde interrupted sharply. “Is it silly to want an extra boost of confidence?”

Hermione shook her head.

“Exactly,” the woman said with finality. “Wizards get to swan around looking better with each passing year. But witches? As soon as we start to look our age it’s into the bin we go! Is it any wonder we invented glamours?”

Hermione couldn’t help but think of Ron and his new much younger paramour. The girl’s beautiful face and hair swam into Hermione’s mind.

To Hermione’s horror, tears began to pool at the corner of her eyelids. She angrily brushed them away.

“I know this may seem strange to you,” the woman offered with a sympathetic gaze. “But I promise when you leave here you will do so a new woman. Now come, let us have tea and chat more.”

Hermione sniffed and in a moment of weakness allowed the woman to guide her down the corridor. Hermione glanced up in time to see large doors leading to a beautiful and bright looking garden.

It was lush and green with a variety of fruit trees surrounding a small gazebo. A pond with colorful looking fish babbled quietly in the soft breeze. Even the air smelled of sweet fruit.

Hermione sat across from the woman at a beautiful pale blue table which held exotic looking flowers, tea and an assortment of pastries.

Hermione took the teacup the blonde woman offered her with a grateful smile.

“Now I know this all seems strange,” the woman said, taking a liberal sip from her powder blue teacup. “But I invented this service for women precisely like you and me. Women who are smart and driven. Women who know brains come first and looks come a far second.”

It was as if she knew Hermione personally. Knew of the embarrassment of being Ron’s cast aside. Knew of her youth at Hogwarts trying to navigate being the smart but not quite pretty one.

“But we live in a visual world, don’t we?” the blonde continued, stirring another sugar cube into her tea. “And now it’s not just good enough to be brilliant and talented. You have to be beautiful as well.”

Hermione went to say something when something caught her attention. A beautiful fox with sparkling grey eyes had come from the far side of the garden and was now staring at her thoughtfully from a few steps away.

“I wonder how this all works,” Hermione continued, moving past her distraction.

“With old magic,” the woman said with a serious look. “We supplement this with a potion that you take once a month. Results usually last a year or two before you need to come back for a _touch up_.”

A small churring sound alerted Hermione to the other side of the garden where several bunnies and owls were hopping over to investigate their new guest. Hermione noticed that there was a large ornate white cage holding a variety of ferrets.

Hermione’s hand went for her wand when a feral looking badger came lumbering out of the shrubbery, but the woman raised a hand to stop her.

"There’s no need for that, They're all very tame," the women explained with a smile. “I find their presence calming for clients. And I’ve always been an animal lover.”

"A magical menagerie," Hermione said, holding out a hand towards a nearby twittering Robin. It landed upon her forefinger immediately, frantically hopping up and down and chirping loudly.

Hermione laughed at the way it danced along her finger before being distracted by the fox with beautiful grey eyes, its stormy gaze unflinchingly on Hermione.

She was about to reach out a hand towards it when the woman stood abruptly, fixing Hermione with a serious look.

“Are you ready for this? To see your best self? Your _true_ self?”

Hermione nodded and followed the witch into a large and luxurious looking room. Large mirrors were on all sides of the room, with the largest and most ornate hidden partially behind large royal blue drapery.

There were plush chairs and assortment of vials and bowls sitting on a table at the far corner. The air smelled faintly of lavender. It felt like a most welcoming spa experience and Hermione relaxed a fraction.

The woman closed the door behind them, bringing Hermione to the podium in the center of the room, before the draped mirror.

“You’ll need to undress.”

Hermione instinctively gripped at her robes at the woman’s words. The thought of undressing in front of anyone horrified her.

“Pardon?”

The woman looked nonplussed. “I assumed this was for a full body transformation?”

Hermione hesitated a moment. “Well… yes.”

“Well then I need to see what I’m working with,” the woman said diplomatically. “It’s really no different than getting a check up from the Healers. You may place your clothes and wand on the table over there.”

Hermione took a moment to reconsider what she was doing. Was she utterly mad? Was this worth it? Just because of a little vanity? She was about to step off the podium and stride right out of the shop when she caught her reflection.

Ruddy faced and sweaty with embarrassment, her laugh lines deeper than she recalled. Coils of dark grey hairs were popping up at her hairline. Her body looked soft and uncared for under her robes.

" _He wants a pretty young witch. Not like you_."

Snape's ugly words haunted her and without thinking her eyes hardened in resolution. She began to pull of her clothing frantically tossing it on the nearby chair before turning back on the podium fully nude, her eyes closed tightly as the woman muttered to herself. 

Hermione covered her bits the best she could with her arm over her breasts and cupped palm covering her mons.

“Oh yes, I can work with this.”

Hermione heard rustling in front of her and she cracked her left eye open a fraction. The woman was undraping the large ornate mirror before stepping back.

“Alright,” she cooed. “Open your eyes.”

Hermione’s heart thundered in her ears as she prepared to look at her naked form in front of this stranger. She opened her eyes slowly, the blur of her vision clearing.

"Oh my," Hermione gaped at the naked figure staring back at her from within the mirror. 

This Hermione was slender, with delicate curves at her hips and enticing, full breasts. The frizzy hair that had always been the bane of her existence fell into soft chocolate waves to the small of her back.

Hermione felt her own arms lowering as she angled her body in different ways. The mirror Hermione gave a small wink, showcasing lashes that were thick and long and made her dark eyes pop. She twirled, showing off shapely calf's and a bottom that was pert and perfectly round.

"Think of it as a Mirror of Erised," the woman cooed in Hermione's ear. "But just for the way you look."

Hermione had never considered herself ugly, but this creature that smiled dreamily out at her was beautiful in ways no amount of _sleekeazy_ and glamours could recreate.

Mirror Hermione's body was completely bare, but she stood with her shoulders back and head titled boldly, as if daring anyone to cross her. Her skin was perfect - no battle scars marred her flesh.

She was _perfect._

"There's no way I can afford this," Hermione said, stepping back, but unable to avert her eyes from the figure. "This must be thousands of galleons."

"Normally it is quite costly," the woman agreed with her. "But based on your referral, the experience is free."

“Free?”

The woman nodded serenely.

"Draco didn't pay for me, did he?" Hermione narrowed her gaze at the woman. She didn't want to be indebted to that little snake for anything- she knew he'd hold it over her head.

"Not at all," the blonde smiled prettily. "The owner is simply a fan of yours. All the work you did defeating Voldemort. You can't be that surprised, surely you've received gifts in the past?"

Hermione thought about this. She rarely took advantage of the gifts or advantages given to her because of her war hero status. But this figure staring back at her? She was perfect. Beautiful and confident.

She thought of Ron gaping at her when she saw him next. She thought of Severus staring at her, kicking himself for being so rude about her looks.

"I accept."

"All you need to do is cast your Patronus," the woman said, her smile wide and beautific as she retrieved Hermione’s wand and handed it to her. "Because this spell is particular to you, we need essence of your patronus. All you need to do is send it around the room and I will gather its vapor."

Hermione nodded, “ _Expecto Patronum_!”

A otter sprung from the end of Hermione's wand, swimming merrily in the sky around the room.

"An otter," the woman said looking disappointed. “Of course.”

Hermione tried not to feel offended as her patronus quickly disappeared into nothing, leaving only trails of vapor. The woman quickly bottled it in a dark blue phial she held. The room was quiet a moment in the wake of her patronus.

The woman moved to the table of phials and instruments, taking a small mixture and adding the vapor into it. Hermione watched as she shook it before turning back to face Hermione.

“Here we are!” she said, handing Hermione the potion and a small piece of parchment. “You need to drink this and then standing in front of the mirror you need to repeat the spell written here.”

She stared at Hermione up on the podium and watched as the brunette quickly drank the potion without hesitation.

Hermione stared back at her mirror self and raised her wand, uttering the enchantment on the paper.

 _“_ _M_ _eam vero mihi in se verum est forma mutata est in me_ _.”_

Almost immediately Hermione felt the fizzing sensation bloom from behind her navel. The perfect mirror image of herself looked sweetly out at her.

The woman was standing beside the mirror in front of Hermione now, looking at her with a dispassionate gaze.

Hermione was about to ask when the fizzing sensation would end when something from the mirror gave her pause. Instead of grimacing and holding her stomach, her Mirror double was continuing to smile. And she continued to smile as she walked towards Hermione before exiting the frame completely.

“Wait, what’s happening?” Hermione said in slowly dawning horror as the mirror Hermione exited the mirror.

“This is what you paid for,” the woman said with a smile as she handed the mirror Hermione the clothes Hermione had taken off earlier. The mirror Hermione began to silently dress.

Before waiting a moment longer, Hermione went to raise her wand and cast when she felt it clatter from her hand. It was so heavy!

A rush went to her head, causing her vision to double. She thought for a moment she was falling, but realized after a moment that she was shrinking and rapidly!

Hermione went to scream but only strange squeaking noises were emitting from her throat. Fresh pain surged through her body and she felt her body collapse fully onto the podium. She breathed heavily, rolling onto her back and staring up at the giant blonde woman.

“Go on now,” the blonde was saying to Mirror Hermione. “Enjoy!”

Mirror Hermione gave a beautiful smile before flouncing out the door, closing it behind her softly. Hermione still lay panting on the floor, her moaning coming out in squeaks.

The blonde woman’s attention was on Hermione now, and her gaze had turned stony.

“And now you are your _true_ self Hermione Granger,” the woman said bending down and grabbing Hermione by the scruff of her neck. “Although I personally always thought a snake suited you better.”

Hermione went to scream at her when she felt her body being carried. She thrashed around before she realized she was being carried into the garden.

The cage holding the ferrets had its lid open and Hermione cried out as she was thrown in with the other chittering creatures.

"An otter isn't that rare," the blonde woman said with a frown. "You'll catch a few sickles at most. But I don't mind. Maybe I'll use you for my own amusement instead. How would _you_ like to be covered in boils?"

Hermione was so scared she couldn’t react a moment. For the first time since everything happened she lowered her head and took in the view of her body.

Coarse fur covered every inch and the pads of her dark brown paws clenched and unclenched as if in disbelief.

The woman had turned her into an _otter._

She went to scream but again the shrill squeaks sounded. Hermione went to jump at the woman but found her body was heavy and hard to navigate. She collapsed in the corner of the cage, terrified.

The blonde lowered her head on the other side of the cage until she and Hermione were face to face.

"I don't know if you remember me from our school days,” the woman said with a grin. “I look quite different after all.”

Hermione said nothing but fixed her with a most withering stare she could accomplish within the body of an otter.

“I’m Marietta Edgecombe." 


	5. A murder of crow

Hermione Granger was trapped in the body of an otter.

The realization trickled like icy water through her body.

The first hour had gone by in a mad blur of Hermione trying every wandless spell she could think of. Nothing had worked of course.

She’d then thrown herself against the cage with such force it had drawn Marietta’s attention from the next room. The witch had threatened to hex her into submission if she didn’t stop.

And so now she was huddled in the corner, glancing around the cage she was trapped in. She had been thrust into this large cage along with the ferrets. But they weren’t behaving in a way she assumed most would. They were all giving her a wide berth, staring at her with patient, almost sad eyes that immediately made Hermione think of the soulful looking fox from earlier.

‘ _My goodness_ ,’ Hermione realized. ‘ _They’ve all been turned… like me!’_

Hermione stared back into their faces, feeling overwhelmed with grief and despair.

Later that afternoon Marietta entered the garden once more. She held her pale blue teacup in one hand, her wand in the other. She brought a plush looking stool beside the cage and sat delicately upon it.

“So I finally outsmarted the brilliant Hermione Granger,” she chuckled, bringing the teacup to her mouth and sipping generously. “And it was so _easy_!”

Hermione continued to stare at Henrietta from her place in the corner of the cage. She felt the malevolent gaze of Henrietta washing over her.

“I suppose by now you’ve realized why you’re here,” she continued with a grimace. “Because of that horrible trick you pulled.”

Trick? Hermione fell quiet, remembering the jinx that Marietta had activated when she betrayed Dumbledore’s Army. Acne in the shape of the word SNEAK on Marietta’s face that never disappeared no matter how hard she tried.

“You know why I outed the DA to Umbridge in the first place, don’t you?” Marietta’s tone was cold. “To save my _mother._ Do you understand that? She could have lost her job or worse – been sent to Azkaban! But you didn’t care did you? All you cared about was that stupid group!”

“ _Stupid group!?”_ Hermione went to scream, but all that came out was an awful squeaking noise.

“Quiet down there,” Marietta warned quietly. “Or I’ll _carve_ SNEAK into your forehead with my wand.”

Hermione fell silent. Marietta was standing now and had begun pacing beside the cage. She had a wild look in her eyes.

“Do you know how long it took to perfect this?” Marietta suddenly asked, pointing to her flawless skin and glaring at Hermione. “Years. Years of trial and error. Testing and failing.”

For a moment Hermione was surprised by the woman’s dedication. But then she remembered the thick layers of makeup that Marietta wore after that experience. The scars that remained.

“And when I finally perfected it, I began to be courted by talented wizards and important ministry personnel and I realized I had more power than I ever did,” Marietta continued. “And I _liked_ it.”

Hermione was listening, her dark eyes wide.

“But it wasn’t long before I started becoming bitter. These men had never looked my way before,” Marietta said with a scoff. “The witches that flocked to me for advice had always ignored me, or worse, _mocked_ me before… I kept thinking how useless they were, the whole lot. No one would miss them.”

Hermione continued to stare up at Marietta through the bars of the cage.

“But I couldn’t just kill them,” Marietta mused. “That was no fun. They still needed to keep showing up to work. They still needed to be in society or there was a chance it could lead back to me. And then looking in the mirror at myself one day I had the most vivid realization of all. I need to bring beauty into the word and remove the ugliness.”

She turned back to face Hermione. “With the mirror versions no one goes missing, no one complains. You just get the best most beautiful version of yourself out in the world.”

Hermione realized with dawning horror that it was true – her mirror self was off living her life, only looking _much_ better. People would attribute it to her falling out with Ron – that she’d gone to have some magical work done. They would never look for her.

Her life was over.

“You may think it cruel,” Marietta said with a far off look. “I think it’s a kindness. Making this world a little less ugly.”

Thoughts of people Hermione would never see again began to flood her senses: Harry, her mom and dad, Ginny, Severus, Ron – stupid Ron, Percy, Severus, James, Severus, Neville, Severus…. _Severus._

He kept appearing at the forefront of her mind, unable to be shaken off. For some reason he hurt the most to think about never seeing again.

“When I saw that article about you and Ron Weasley in the paper I just knew it was my time to strike,” Marietta said with a cruel laugh. “And how right I was! How easy it was to get you here. All because the great brain Hermione Granger wanted to be _pretty_.”

Shame suffused Hermione’s entire body because what Marietta was saying was true. For once in her life she had wanted what the other girl’s had. She wanted to be desired.

“The best part is now that I have _you_ , my collection is almost complete,” Marietta said with a broad smile. “All I need now is Harry Potter.”

Like a stab to the heart, Hermione jumped up from her spot in the cage and squealed in fright, thinking of her poor friend being subjected to the same fate.

“He’s a stag isn’t he?” Marietta said, her brow furrowed as if trying to remember. “Yes, I believe he was. I think I’d love to have his head stuffed and hung atop my mantle.”

Hermione was shrieking now, as best as her poor otter body could stand. Marietta glowered before pointing her wand at Hermione.

“ _Crucio_.”

***

How long had she been _Crucio_ -ed?

It could have been hours….or days… perhaps even minutes. It had seemed like forever. Hermione was in so much pain she could barely move.

She was going to die here. She had accepted that. But she had to think of a way to protect Harry. Marietta came into the garden, dressed in a clinging, form-fitting robe. She smiled serenely at Hermione before shaking the cage ruthlessly.

“Seems we have a new customer,” Marietta said with a wide grin. “Someone you know in fact. He should be arriving any moment. I thought you’d like to be awake for it.”

Hermione could barely raise her head, but her heart sank.

_Harry, it had to be Harry._

Marietta went into the shop and then came back into the garden where her tea and pastries were laid out.

When a familiar, tall figure entered into the garden with Marietta moments later Hermione could have cried.

“We don’t use names here,” Marietta was saying with a sickly sweet grin as she looked up into the face of Severus Snape. “Privacy and all that.”

Snape took a surveying look around the garden, seeing the animals and pastries and tea and gave Marietta a smile Hermione had never seen before. It was wide and false looking.

“Lovely.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” Marietta said, urging him to sit at the table. “Please, come have some tea. Tell me more about what or, _who_ brought you here. We are by referral only after all.”

Snape took the proffered seat but declined the tea.

“If I can be honest, I came upon your card,” Snape said with a silken purr, leaning forward conspiratorially. “A coworker left it on her desk and I happened upon it. I thought it was much too brilliant an opportunity to pass up.”

Hermione could barely hear what they were saying over her own horror. Snape? Snape was here to fix up his looks? What did he care about his looks? He was better than handsome! He was…memorable! Striking! Imagining anything on his face changing made Hermione want to cry.

“I think we can make an exception,” Marietta said with a trilling laugh. “I just know we can do so much with you.”

“What a relief,” Snape said with a with a grin that rivalled Marietta’s. “I’m in the right place!”

Suddenly his hands went to the pocket of his travelling robes. “Oh, I had a parchment with questions for you… Seems I’ve forgotten it at the office. Will you excuse me? I’ll not be a moment.”

Before she could say anything Snape had strode from the garden. Mariette glanced over to the cage and gave Hermione a sinister grin.

Snape reappeared seconds later, but much to the surprise of all in the garden, he wasn’t alone.

Mirror Hermione was with him! Well, levitating beside him as he walked out into the back garden. Her eyes were closed and her body wrapped in thick green ropes, ala the _Incarcerous_ spell.

“What’s the meaning of this?” Marietta gasped, watching as Snape lay the unconscious girl on the grass between them.

"This is not Hermione Granger," Snape said, allowing her to be dropped onto the grass with a thud.

‘ _Oh you brilliant man_!’

Otter Hermione began to churr excitedly at the sight of her coworker. All the fear she had been feeling evaporated at the sight of him charging in the door.

"That's ridiculous!" Marietta explained. "What on earth would make you say that?!"

"Because I know her," Snape replied. He motioned to the fake Hermione. “ _That_ is not her.”

Their talk had driven the animals (normally hiding) into the garden to see what was happening. Snape didn’t seem to notice or care.

"Because of her tea," Snape said. "She always has a Darjeeling with a splash of milk in the morning before we begin.

Hermione the otter stopped squeaking at these words. Since when had Snape ever noticed what she drank in the morning?

Marietta was frowning deeply.

"You come into my shop and accuse me of something... _Insane_ , all the while based on something a coworker drinks in the morning."

Hermione tried to lift her head, but her body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds. Still, she couldn’t help but be in awe of the power emanating from her coworker.

"She doesn't smell like her," Snape continued, pointing at the mirror Hermione huddling in the corner of the room. "Hermione Granger smells of rose water. This strange thing doesn't smell at all. As if she were made of nothing but vapour."

Wait, Snape knew what she _smelled_ like?

"And she has a freckle under her left eye. This creature had one under her right. I came to the conclusion."So I ask you again Miss Edgecombe, where is the _real_ Hermione Granger?"

Marietta's face was bright red and Hermione wanted to shout with joy. But she was so weak from the _Crucio_ that she could barely keep her eyes open.

Marietta’s hand was inching behind her back, so slowly it was barely noticeable. Hermione wanted to make a noise, a warning but she was so weak.

But she wasn’t alone in the realization. She had just enough energy to watch as the grey-eyed fox bounded towards Snape and Marietta, growling and sinking her jaws into Marietta’s hand.

Marietta gave a shriek, shaking off the fox and dropping her wand all in onced. Without saying anything, Snape had produced his wand and pressed it against Marietta’s temple.

Marietta watched ruefully as the fox picked up Marietta’s bloodied wand in her mouth and dropped it at Snape’s side. 

Marietta said nothing and Snape’s attention wavered only to steal a glance around the room and fall on the cage that Hermione was trying to squeak in. His dark eyes continued to rove around the room, coming to land back on Marietta.

"Where is she?” Snape hissed, raising his wand to between her brows. A strange look had gone into Marietta’s eyes and she gave a wry grin.

“You’ll never know,” Marietta said. Before anything more could be done she had clenched her teeth together soundly. The entire room watched as Marietta’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fell to the ground in a heap.

Snape fell to his knees, bending over the girl and tipping back her jaw until her mouth parted. He leaned forward and for a wild moment Hermione thought he meant to kiss her. 

“Basilisk venom,” Snape said, smelling the girl’s breath before pulling back. “Fucking madness.”

Hermione watched as he raised his wand and a small raven erupted from the end. His patronus. But hadn’t it always been a doe?

“We have a dead witch here,” he said in a dark tone. “Suicide. Bring the Aurors.”

Then he leaned back on his heels, sighing and holding his head a moment. The animals were all peering at him, quietly observing. He stood shakily, his dark eyes scanning the garden.

"Granger," Snape shouted. "Are you here?”

Hermione went to make a noise but all the other animals had decided to come out and make a great show. The fox was screeching and the birds twittering.

‘ _I’m here! I’m here!_ ’

Hermione felt frustrated. How could she answer him? She was a bloody otter! And she was so exhausted, her body bone weary. How on earth would she compete against these creatures?

Snape surveyed the creatures before it dawned on him that they weren’t just animals kept for show.

“Granger, how many Adders Fork go into the first phase of the potion we’re working on?”

Hermione could have kissed him for the ingenious way around things but just how was she to answer him on that? She was a fucking otter! The squeaking would do no good; she could barely make out a sound.

Snape glanced around the garden at the quizzical looks the other animals were giving him. Despair bloomed in his chest at the realization that Hermione may be gone for good.

He blinked rapidly, his jaw clenching. He was about to leave, to get away for a breath of air when he heard it –

Three soft thumps.

Snape whirled around, still unable to locate the sound exactly. His heart was hammering and he tried to steady his voice.

“And how many drops of honey?”

The honey had been her idea to make the product more enjoyable to digest.

Two thumps.

Snape continued in the direction of the thumps, seeing now that there were an array of ferrets in a cage. But which one was her?

“And _lovage_ seeds?”

Four thumps.

He saw the movement – the otter in the back of the cage, thumping her tail. She was hidden by ferrets and Snape felt his heart seize. He threw open the lid to the cage and quickly reached inside.

Hermione could have cried as Snape’s strong hands reached into the cage and drew her against him. She wriggled happily within his arms as he stood straight once more.

"Calm down, Hermione," Snape murmured in amusement, holding her tightly to his chest. “Now that I have you, we must find the antidote.”

Antidote. Of course. Marietta would have it on hand just in case something went wrong. Hermione felt relief flooding back into her body, emboldening her. She had a hunch on where.

“Any ideas?” Snape mused.

Otter Hermione nodded her head and raised a shaky paw in the direction of the main room with the large mirror. Snape held her tightly and followed her directions until they came to the room with the large mirror.

She wriggled in his grip until he placed her on the ground. She quickly scampered across the room until she came to the mirror. She didn’t even bother looking in its reflection. Instead she moved behind it – to the space no one went and there it was. A whole table of phials and potions. She looked expectantly at Snape who moved behind the curtain and immediately got to work.

She knew his expertise in identifying potions and ingredients would be much faster and so she left him to it. She knew the Aurors would be here soon and she wanted to tell them everything.

Finally moments later he re-emerged with a phial in hand. Wordlessly he bent down and held the dropper in her direction.

“Open up.”

She obeyed without question and parting her otter mouth she held still as Snape squeezed the violet coloured droplets down her throat. She waited, concerned when nothing happened. Then just as she had lost hope she felt it –the tingling that ran through her body, starting behind her navel.

And then that strange feeling of changing size. Only she wasn’t shrinking, she was growing. Snape was going from giant to normal Severus slightly-taller-than-her Snape.

Hermione blinked rapidly as the quivering all over her body abated. The fur that had sprouted everywhere was gone and she glanced down at her bare arms with tears in her eyes.

“You did it,” she gushed, looking at Snape with open gratitude. She was surprised to see her coworker un-moving.

Instead, Snape was staring, his eyes roving up her body with his mouth parted slightly. Hermione worried that perhaps she still retained something of her otter body.

Hermione glanced down and realized in that moment that not only did she no longer retain any otter qualities, she was completely naked. Her nipples were crinkled in the cool air and her nipples jutted almost proudly. 

Hermione gave a sharp yelp, covering herself with her hands and a now pink-faced Snape shrugged off his robe and threw it at her before facing away in the opposite direction.

As she pulled it over her naked form, Hermione shivered. Not because of the lack of clothing, but because just then in Snape's eyes she had seen nothing of the austere coworker she knew, but instead sometimes akin to molten lava.

It had been _lust_.

And she felt her body come alive at that realization.

Snape slowly turned to face her once more, his face giving away nothing.

"There's more of us!" Hermione said, her face still red. "Bring the antidote!"

***

Hours later Hermione and Snape finished giving their statements to the Aurors. Hermione pulled the robes tightly around her, enveloped in the scent of potions and peppermint.

"We looked into it and Draco Malfoy has been questioned but found innocent. The letter you received Miss Granger? Forged by Miss Edgecombe. She's been using Malfoy's name to land big clients. Clients whom we now know are imposters of these fine folks." He motioned towards the group of witches and wizards wearing towels and blankets. The robin, the ferrets - all were alive and well and human once more!

A grey-eyed, red-headed woman approached Hermione shyly when the Auror left them. Hermione recognized her as the Fox immediately. She was slightly chubby with a patch of acne on her chin. She was tearful.

"Thank you. Thank you."

She clutched at Hermione, holding her tightly in thanks before squeezing an embarrassed looking Snape then went moving into the crowd. The rest of the ferrets, doe and birds (all very pleasant witches and wizards) came to give their thanks to them both.

And finally they were free to go home.

Hermione suggested they go right to the lab. She had spare clothes there and she had come upon a brilliant idea for their potion while they were chatting with the Aurors.

Snape hadn’t been convinced that was the best plan considering what she’d been through, but he acquiesced in a manner that was completely unlike him.

Soon they were both leaning over the puckering liquid in the cauldron and Hermione was smiling.“Otter hair,” she said, pulling some from the cloak Snape had been wearing during her rescue. “We knew the missing ingredient had to be from the _Mustelid_ family but we’ve been searching up the wrong tree, er, sea, so to speak.”

Snape’s dark eyes widened at what she was suggesting.

“We thought it had to be weasel or badger,” Hermione was speaking quickly. “But the otter fur has a completely different property. One that can maintain its consistency without dissolving entirely!”

“The _Lutrinae_ family,” Snape whispered. “The sub species of _Mustelid_.”

“Specifically its guard hairs,” Hermione continued excitedly brandishing the strands between them. “Of which I had many.”

Snape nodded and with a deep breath, Hermione dropped the first hair into the potion. The two watched as the solution became less puckered looking. Another hair was added and Snape exhaled as the potion took on a clear and smooth texture.

“We did it!” Hermione shouted excitedly.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Snape said, but his small smile gave away how excited he was.

The two lapsed into silence and Snape placed a heavy looking lid upon the cauldron. It would need to sit for several hours.

Wordlessly the two moved to the far side of their office. Hermione poured them each a cup of tea and they sat across from one another, looking everywhere but each other. 

"I haven't even thanked you,” Hermione finally blurted.

"Unnecessary."

More silence. More tea sipping. Hermione regarded Snape, his long body stiff in his chair, staring off into the distance. He always struck her as someone who didn’t observe anything without Intense calculation. That would explain why he'd picked up on her mirror self so quickly. 

"I need to know, what tipped you off to start?" Hermione asked with a small smile. "It couldn't just have been the tea. Lots of people drink tea."

Snape looked at her a moment, then shrugged.

“You didn’t think she looked radically different from me?” Hermione prodded. “I mean she was _perfect_.”

Snape looked strangely uncomfortable and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “ _I couldn’t tell a difference_.”

Hermione felt a flash of irritation at that. “You must have been able to tell a difference. Why, only last month you said how ugly I looked.”

Immediately Snape was back to his old self. He’d straightened in his seat, looking haughty with his brows furrowed.

“I did no such thing.”

“ _Ron wants a young, pretty thing. Not someone like you_ _,”_ Hermione echoed his past words, hated that saying it aloud still pained her.

“I see your memory is quite selective,” Snape replied flatly. “When what I said was that Weasley wanted a young, pretty, _vapid_ _trophy witch_ to hang on his every word. You are neither vapid nor a trophy witch who is enamored with Quidditch."

He trailed off, looking hard into her face and Hermione took stock of his words. He hadn’t meant it how she thought? How was that possible?

“But then you said I looked tired,” Hermione insisted. Although now it sounded rather pathetic to her ears.

“You _did_ ,” Snape replied without softening. “After all that nonsense with the Prophet you looked completely knackered. I was worried about your health.”

Hermione was quiet as her memories of the past month began to reform. The opinions and assumptions she had made were so off base. And yes, Snape hadn’t exactly been kind but he hadn’t been awful either. She chanced a glance up at him.

"You know what tea I take," Hermione said quietly. "What I smell like."

Snape said nothing, but his eyes were trained on her face. She gave him a small smile.

"Seems like you know much more about me than I realized."

Silence fell between them and Snape looked away. Hermione’s eyes fell to her lap and she continued, hearing the wavering of her voice.

"But then again I know your desk gets cluttered when you’re anxious," Hermione said softly, surprised that she could recall this information with ease. "And if you’re in a really foul mood you go out for a dart, but you’ll never admit it. And that you smell of soil and peppermint after a long day…"

Her heart pounded at this last more personal admission. She didn’t dare look up in case she had completely misread the entire situation.

"I think Weasley is a fool."

Hermione glanced over at him, quivering slightly when she saw the obvious want in his dark eyes.

"I think I was blaming Ron for everything,” Hermione insisted. “But in truth I was to blame as well. He was completely right, I fell out of love with him ages ago."

Snape was listening with narrowed eyes. He didn’t move a muscle as she spoke.

"You see, Ron was always rather overshadowed by this image I had of the kind of wizard I wanted."

"Is that so?”

Hermione noticed that he’d stood and was closing the distance between them. She stood as well, trying to ignore the quivering in her legs.

"Yes, the sort that doesn't care about public opinion,” Hermione said, feeling emboldened as he stopped inches from her. “The brilliant kind that would come and save a coworker who’s been too daft to realize she’s fancied someone else for years.”

Though she could not see it, the tips of Snape’s ears were a bright pink of delight.

“Years?” he prodded as he placed a palm against her cheek. She nuzzled into it, staring up at him with shining eyes.

“Years.”

His mouth came crashing down on hers, taking her breath away. His mouth and his tongue were making her dizzy. She gripped at his robes, suddenly needing them to be off. He muttered something and Hermione felt as their clothing fell to the floor. And for a horrible moment she paused, trying to cover her body, remembering the way she had looked in the mirror. The perfect image of her. 

"I want you," Snape groaned against her ear and before she could stop him he'd slowly removed her hands from her body. His eyes roved over her flesh and Hermione saw as his member immediately stiffened at the sight. "All of you." 

And with that, all her fears disappeared and she fell into his embrace. Hermione felt her body responding to every touch, every nibble, every lick. She was groaning against his mouth, desperate to feel all of him. As if her body had been asleep all these years and was now finally awake.

She couldn’t believe how Snape’s groan of pleasure could cause her toes to curl. Midway through their ministrations she felt him pull back.

“We’ll go on a proper date after this?” Snape panted between her legs. “Dinner and all that?”

“Yes yes!” Hermione insisted, laughing and then moaning and then --

Oh… it was just perfect.

No, it was better than perfect.

It was just them.

***

Filch couldn’t stop smiling.

He smiled when he levitated a feather.

He smiled when his broom smacked into his hand for the first time.

He even smiled when a charm backfired and he had curly red hair growing out of his nose for a week.

Hermione realized she’d never seen Filch properly smile, only leer or grimace. Seeing him smile made him look younger and more approachable.

“This is brilliant,” he kept saying, tottering on his broom as he tested the air that afternoon. “I can’t believe I’m doing bloody magic. I’m going to bloody fly.”

“Slow and steady,” Snape said, writing something on parchment. “No need to rush things.”

It had been several months since their potion had been tested and between that and the therapy, it seemed all blocks had been removed. Filch was finding more magic in himself every day. Hermione and Snape were going to be in history books everywhere as soon as their research was published. 

“Oh go on,” Filch said over his shoulder. “I just want a zip around the field.”

Before either Snape or Hermione could protest, Filch had gone zooming along the field at top speed. Hermione laughed aloud at the sight of the ancient caretaker squealing like a firstie.

She felt as Snape’s arm came to wrap around her waist and hold her tight. She felt her body respond immediately, her cheeks pinking in delight.

“My place tonight?” he murmured into her wild hair.

“Mmm, yes please,” Hermione responded, snuggling into his embrace. She was about to say something more when an owl appeared, dropping a rolled paper into her hands before flying off.

There was a piece of acid green parchment on the top that Hermione read quickly.

“Seems Rita wanted me to see an advanced copy,” Hermione sighed, opening it slowly to see Ron and his new fiancée smiling back from the paper.

**MEMBER OF GOLDEN TRIO FINALLY ENGAGED**

Underneath was a long article on Ron and how happy he and Eunjoo Kim were.

_“She makes me so happy,” said the blushing ginger._

Hermione felt a bit of a pang as she read the article. Not that she wished she were in the young girl’s shoes. No, more that Ron hadn’t told her of it himself. Their relationship would have to be mended, but for the first time Hermione felt good about that. About having her friend back.

“How do you feel about this?” Snape asked tightly, motioning to the paper. Hermione could hear the worry in his voice, as if she had only gone to him out of a desire to forget Ron.

She crumpled the paper and threw it over her shoulder before gripping Snape by the collar and dragging his mouth to meet hers.

After a proper snogging that included much panting and groping the two finally broke apart. Hermione’s hair was more mad than usual and Snape’s mouth was smeared with her lip gloss.

“Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” Snape said with a boyish grin. “It does.”

The two glanced over to see Filch screaming past them on his broom. Seeing the joy on Filch’s face and feeling Snape’s hand gripping hers, Hermione was struck with what her true self was; a woman in love, a woman who may just make the Wizarding world a better place. 

And she liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading my little story! And thank you to all who took time to leave me messages and encouragements !!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story to say I'm sorry for my delays in updates! Covid has me feeling so overwhelmed but I promise this story is in 5 parts and I've already written 4 of them so expect constant updates!


End file.
